


The Eleventh Hour

by Bellobelle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellobelle/pseuds/Bellobelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with two numbers on their backs. One counts down to a beginning, the other to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eleventh Hour

_Our life in this world -_  
 _to what shall I compare it?_  
 _Its like an echoresounding through the mountains_  
 _and off into the empty sky._  
-Monk Ryokan

**11**

Arthur lay in bed, not daring to move lest he break the peaceful bubble formed around him. His breaths are silent, almost nonexistent, as he watches Merlin's still-sleeping form.

Beneath the covers, one of Merlin's legs is nestled between Arthur's knees. His arms are wrapped around the pillow below him, exposing his smooth, milky white back.

Arthur watches the numbers on Merlin's back move with each breath he takes. The first one a neat black circle, that hit the number Zero the same time Arthur's did. Merlin, ever the romantic, calls it the Soul Mate number. Arthur has never argued.

Then there's the other number, the one that shimmers and ripples and changes every year. The one that everyone has, right where the heart should be. The numbers that are recorded at birth, to be seen by parents and family lawyers, exposed to anyone who sees you with your back turned but never by your own eyes. One number is anticipated and lusted after, the other feared.

The jet-black numbers on Merlin's back stand out against the pale white of his skin. They're no bigger than a postage stamp, perfect for kissing and biting passionately during sex. The neat Zero on top is as it always is, always has been since they met seven years ago. The number on the bottom, however, is the one Arthur watches now. The two crisp, dark lines forming the number Eleven.

Yesterday it was a number One, which tells Arthur that it isn't counting years anymore. One year cannot suddenly turn into eleven. Sometime yesterday, Merlin's number One shifted and split into the number Twenty-Four, which counted down until it reached what it is now.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Merlin, Arthur disentangles his legs from Merlin's and eases himself from the bed. The clock on the table displays 6:23 in bright green.

Eleven hours.

Arthur rises, grabbing his phone and padding from the bedroom, letting the carpet muffle his footsteps. He slips into the kitchen, opening the curtains above the sink to illuminate the room with as much early-morning light as possible.

He dials into his phone and keeps his voice low, speaking with no preamble and using his no-nonsense boss voice so that nobody would dare refuse him. First he calls Merlin's work, then his own, then crawls back into bed and resumes watching Merlin.

Merlin is still asleep, lips quirked like he's dreaming of all his favorite things. He's perfect, his dark eyelashes whispering against his ivory skin. One of them has detached itself and is now resting on his impossibly sharp cheekbone. It flutters from the closeness of Arthur's breathing, threatening to blow away but somehow managing to stay put, refusing to be moved.

Arthur doesn't dare disturb Merlin, letting him sleep in peace for as long as possible. Arthur watches him, taking in each and every tiny detail and committing it to memory. The slender slope of his nose, the dip in his lower lip, the exact angle of his eyebrows. Arthur wants to remember it all, preserve it and keep everything locked and hidden away so that they can never, ever be destroyed.

Half an hour later, the room has lightened somewhat and the number on Merlin's back is now a Ten.

Arthur reaches out a steady finger to brush the stray eyelash from Merlin's cheek, and doesn't move away. Merlin shifts under his caress, eyes fluttering before cracking open, revealing the strikingly blue irises beneath.

Merlin smiles. "Hey."

"Hey," Arthur responds. He can't help but smile back, reveling in the gentle, sleepy happiness in Merlin's gaze.

Merlin stretches and turns his head to press a feather-light kiss to Arthur's fingers, smiling again when Arthur shifts closer to press his lips to Merlin's.

"Let's stay in today," Arthur says. "Just you and me, no distractions. What do you say?"

"Arthur," Merlin laughs, voice thick with sleep, "We both have work to go to."

"No we don't," Arthur says, "I called before you woke up. We're both off sick with very bad cases of stomach flu, and we absolutely cannot go in lest we infect each and every one of our co-workers."

Arthur lets himself be pulled in for another kiss, placing his arms around Merlin's waist and securing him to Arthur's body.

Merlin's kisses grow more languid, traveling to Arthur's jaw and then his neck, mouth wet and eager against Arthur's skin.

Arthur flips them over so that he hovers above Merlin, nestled between Merlin's thighs. For a moment Merlin stops kissing him and his head lays on the pillow, looking up at Arthur through lazy blue eyes. Arthur wants to capture this, to keep the brightness in Merlin's eyes before it has a chance to go out.

Then Arthur ducks his head to press kisses to Merlin's lips, across his face and settles on the hollow at Merlin's collarbone, worshipping the skin there with his tongue.

Merlin moans and reaches for the supplies they keep in the bedside drawer. From there, Arthur takes his time, his touches lingering far longer than usual. He grips the delicate bones at Merlin's hips, the warm skin of his stomach, the tender muscle of his thighs. Arthur lavishes attention to all of him, taking great care to leave no section of Merlin untouched. If Merlin notices the extra care Arthur takes, he doesn't acknowledge it, instead panting and knotting his fingers in Arthur's hair.

Arthur covers Merlin's mouth with his own again as he presses his lube-slick fingers inside. With shuddering movements he carefully stretches Merlin open, until Merlin growls at him to _get on with it already._ When he removes his fingers and presses himself inside, they groan in unison, Merlin clutching at Arthur's shoulders and urging him to go faster.

Arthur makes his movements as tender as possible, wanting to draw this out so that it will never, ever end. His thrusts are shallow and agonizingly slow, Merlin gripping his thighs and back, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Arthur's head moves quickly over Merlin, desperate to press his lips to Merlin's lips, cheekbones, and throat. He savors Merlin's soft moans as he catches them on his tongue, feeding them greedily back into himself.

It isn't until Merlin's fingers find the spot on Arthur's back, the place where Arthur has his own two numbers stamped on his skin, that Arthur comes. Merlin follows almost immediately after, shouting his release against Arthur's throat.

"So," Merlin hums into Arthur's neck as they lie in the afterglow, "Breakfast?"

Arthur tenses, his eyes travelling to the little Ten on Merlin's skin. "Yeah," He says, "You stay here and look pretty."

"Aye aye," Merlin mock salutes. Arthur kisses Merlin's forehead and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he goes. He can feel Merlin's eyes on him as he slips from the room, probably looking at the number on Arthur's back, the one binding them together.

Once out of sight in the kitchen, Arthur covers his face with his hands and heaves a deep breath through his fingers.

 _Ten hours,_ he thinks to himself. He scrubs his face with his hands, squares his shoulders and gets to work.

Twenty minutes later the kitchen is a flurry of activity. A neat line of plates sit on the counter stacked with eggs, pancakes and toast. The smell of bacon fills the room, wafting up from where they sizzle and pop on the stove.

"Wow."

Arthur turns at the sound of Merlin's impressed voice. He leans against the doorway, post-sex bed hair sticking up on the side of his head. Merlin has wrapped himself in their duvet, so that only his head and a tiny section of chest is visible.

"Wait a second," Something catches Merlin's eye. "Is that...?"

"Your favorite," Arthur finishes for him, handing Merlin the already-poured glass of juice with a flourish. It's an atrocity that Merlin for some reason loves, a blasphemous mixture of grape, pineapple, and kiwi.

"But we never buy this!" Merlin says after draining half the glass.

"Today is different," Arthur replies. Not only is the juice disgusting, it's also rather expensive, which is why Merlin has a strict schedule for it, sticking to mainly birthdays and Christmas.

"What for?"

Arthur shrugs, and Merlin quirks an eyebrow over the rim of the glass. "No reason. It's been a while since we spent a day together, just the two of us. Thought we could make a holiday of it."

Merlin nods and sets the now empty glass down on the counter, reaching for the carton. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?" He muses. "Why is that?"

"I can't imagine," Arthur says, flipping the bacon from the pan onto a plate. "That's why I decided we shouldn't wait any longer."

When Arthur turns back, Merlin is smiling contentedly.

"Want some?" Merlin offers, holding out his glass.

"God no." Arthur wrinkles his nose when Merlin starts to swirl the juice tantalizingly. "It's unbelievably gross."

"I think you mean, 'unfathomably delicious."

"It's sick."

Merlin shrugs. "Suit yourself," He says, and drains his second glass.

Arthur turns his back to assemble two plates of food. The rough scrape of chair legs on the floor sound as Merlin sits at the table, the duvet rustling as he arranges himself. Armed with eggs, bacon, and pancakes just the way Merlin likes, Arthur sets them on the table.

"Is that your third glass already?" Arthur asks in disbelief as Merlin smacks his lips looking well-satisfied.

"I swear, Arthur, this is better than anything you've ever had. Better than sex."

Arthur smirks. "I think the contradicting evidence is drying on your stomach right now."

"Shut up," Merlin sticks his tongue out.

Arthur just laughs and sits down. Soon the room is filled with the sounds of them eating, focused on their breakfast. They don't say anything, mouths occupied with shoveling food into them. Beneath the table, their ankles tangle and twist together, the casual contact burning through Arthur's skin.

It's like any other morning they've spent together, and Arthur hates that. It feels wrong. Today should be special, they should be making the most out of it, not sitting in silence like this.

But, looking at the way Merlin shoots him an affectionate through a mouthful of eggs, Arthur decides there's no way to make this special and still remain subtle. If Merlin is happy right now, that should be more than adequate.

"So," Arthur says after swallowing a mouthful of coffee, "What do you want to do today?"

Merlin just shrugs and takes another bite. "I dunno," he says.

"We've both got the day off," Arthur presses, "We should make the most of it."

"Who says we can't just do this?" Merlin says, "Just lazing around together?"

Arthur bumps Merlin's foot with his own. "Come on," He persists, "If you were to die tonight, what would you want to spend your last day on earth doing?"

Merlin's face softens. "This," He says, almost without delay. "Just being in the flat, with you."

"That's it?" Arthur struggles to keep his face neutral, knowing he's probably failing. He fixes Merlin with a stare, begging him to throw him a bone.

Merlin leans over and softly kisses Arthur's lips, and when he pulls back he holds Arthur's last piece of bacon in his hand. "I can't think of anything I love more than just being alone with you."

Arthur makes a halfhearted grab for his bacon, but Merlin twists around to keep it out of reach. As he moves, the duvet slips from Merlin's shoulder, exposing the number on his shoulder, now a Nine.

"Tell you what," Arthur says, grabbing Merlin and pulling him close, "Why don't we go to that cafe you like, get some chips, and then we can come back here and do whatever you want."

Merlin laughs and snuggles closer. "Why are you being so nice to me today? It's not even my birthday!"

"I wanted to make a gesture," Arthur says, "So what do you say?"

Merlin pretends to think about it. "Alright."

"Good." Arthur lightly smacks him on the arse in the direction of their bedroom. "Go get dressed and let's go."

Merlin stands and smiles as he hikes the duvet back around his shoulders. Arthur watches him go.

***

Everyone has two numbers that predict their destiny. The numbers are final and unavoidable.

Doctors say the numbers form in the womb as early as five weeks into fetal development. Ultrasounds have special ways of showing the parents their child's numbers, if they choose to see them. (Sometimes the number will be so low that the parents will mourn their child before it is born.) (If you see a corpse with only one Zero, mourn for their loss as well.)

Arthur was told his first number at an early age. When he was born, the number Nineteen was stamped on his shoulder blade, and as he grew up he knew that somewhere out there, there was someone with the exact same number.

When he was eighteen, he woke up one morning and wandered into the kitchen in only his sweatpants. Morgana had come in and gasped, pointing at his shoulder and shrieking, "Arthur, your number! It's changed!" Indeed, what was a One the day before was now the a Three hundred and Sixty-Five.

Morgana hardly left him alone that year, determined to be there when the fated meeting occurred. "I want to meet this girl," She said. Her number was already a Zero, having met Leon when she was only eight years old. "I want to see how crazy she is if she's mad enough to be your soul mate."

Arthur waved her off. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but then again he always was an excellent liar. As the days passed, Arthur spent more and more time wondering about who his mysterious soul mate would be, and how they would meet. He couldn't help but think that maybe, his soul mate wouldn't like him very much after all. But then he reminded himself that the numbers never lie, and he didn't have anything to fear. Probably.

Finally the day came at the breakfast table when Morgana squealed that the number Six was now stamped on his back, displaying Six hours.

Arthur let Morgana pick out his clothes that day, but he refused to let her touch his hair. Checking himself one last time in the hall mirror, he took a deep breath and told himself that whoever it was, they would take him no matter what. The numbers do not lie.

Uther clapped a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Good luck, son," He said. Arthur nodded like he was being given an order.

Arthur had no idea where to go, so Morgana took him to the park and sat him on a bench and didn't let him up for anything. "Not until your number says One, mister." So they sat on the bench eating chips and drinking coffee until Morgana looked at her watch and nodded.

Arthur swallowed and looked around at the people milling about. Nobody in particular caught his attention, so he got up, picked a direction, and started walking. Morgana stayed on the bench, but he could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was going, and suddenly a body collided with his and coffee was spilled all down his front.

"Great," Arthur muttered. Now his first encounter with his true love would be with a disgusting brown stain all over his white shirt. Just what he needed.

"Damn! I'm so sorry!" That's when Arthur looked up to see who it was that ran into him, and found himself staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen. His heart stopped, his breath hitched, and his entire vocabulary seemed to evaporate.

So he said the first thing that came to mind. "What kind of ears are those?"

The boy blinked, straightened up, then buried his face in his hands.

"Oh god," He groaned, "My soul mate is an absolute _ass._ "

The boy cast a helpless look behind him, and Arthur caught a glimpse of a pretty dark-skinned girl smiling at the two of them. He turned back, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"I'm Merlin," He said.

_Shit,_ Arthur thought as he eyed this stranger's torn jeans, _Father is not going to approve of this at all._

**9**

Arthur is lucky. The morning is bright and sunny, the sky almost completely blue. Merlin holds his hand as they walk to their favorite cafe, talking merrily about a program he saw on TV, his other hand gesticulating his enthusiasm. Arthur listens, keeping his hand tightly moulded to Merlin's fingers.

They pass a couple heading the opposite direction, hands entwined. As they walk, the boy stumbles and the girl laughs, and Arthur can hear some of their words.

"--Knight in shining armor, truly."

"Shut up Mith, it was an accident--"

The girl is wearing a pretty cream-colored sundress, hair pulled back in a dainty braid. As Arthur and Merlin walk closer, Arthur catches a glimpse of the numbers on her exposed shoulder. One is a Zero, the other a clear Fifty-Six.

Arthur's eyes burn with jealousy and he grips Merlin's hand tighter.

***

Arthur didn't have to look to know that his and Merlin's numbers were now matching Zeros, would be Zeros for the rest of their lives.

The afternoon they met, Merlin took his hand and they walked to the nearest cafe, where they spent the next four hours just talking. By the end of it, Arthur knew with absolute certainty that this Merlin was exactly who he was meant to be with. The fact that Merlin was a _boy_ and not a girl threw him a bit, particularly that he was such a poor, clumsy one at that, but from the warm feeling in his chest every time Merlin smiled, Arthur could tell there couldn't be anybody else.

He was right in thinking Uther wouldn't approve. When Arthur brought Merlin home, Uther shook Merlin's hand with a cold glare. He started questioning Merlin about his life: Where he was born (A tiny village called Ealdor), what his parents did (Mum was a maid, father wasn't even in the picture), and what he planned to do for a living (Cook).

Merlin had gulped under Uther's hard gaze, but as soon as he stepped back Morgana tackled him with a hug, declaring him to be the finest man she could hope for for her brother, and wishing him the best of luck in putting up with him.

They managed to wait a full two weeks before they had sex for the first time. They peeled each other's clothes off, eager and desperate to learn about this part of the rest of their lives. Merlin stripped his shirt off and Arthur laughed at the eager way Merlin flung himself facedown on the bed.

His laughter died abruptly when Arthur caught sight of the Merlin's numbers. The top one was a Zero, perfectly circular. The other one Arthur stared at, the number Seven standing out against the pale white of Merlin's skin.

Arthur stared and stared and stared at the single digit until Merlin twisted to look at him over his shoulder and told him to get on with it.

Arthur did, moving harshly on top of him and inside him, and came with his mouth clamped firmly over the numbers on Merlin's back.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured sleepily when they were finished, "Do you promise to love me for the rest of my life?"

Arthur hid his frown with a kiss to Merlin's temple.

 _No,_ He didn't say, _I promise to love you for the rest of mine._

Instead, he kissed Merlin again and said, "I promise."

***

**8**

Their favorite cafe has set up tables outside, so that customers can enjoy the rare sunny day. Merlin and Arthur sit in one of them, ankles hooked around the chair legs while their fingers tangle on the table top. Merlin drinks his coffee and Arthur nurses his, reveling in this feeling of togetherness.

He feels like he should say something to make this moment memorable, but he can't. There's nothing he can say without making Merlin suspicious. He doesn't know his second number, after all. Nobody knows their own.

Instead Arthur excuses himself to the loo. Inside, he splashes water on his face, gasping and covering his eyes with his hands.

 _I can't do this,_ Echoes in his mind. How can he?

He takes a shuddering breath and straightens up, staring at himself in the mirror. Underneath his eyes are just a hint of shadow. Someone else might think he was merely having a trying day. Nothing but his eyes betray the true fear beneath.

He can't afford to be afraid today. He's been afraid for the last seven years, staring at the dwindling number on Merlin's back. Today he has to be strong, for Merlin's sake.

With a curt nod to himself in the mirror, he turns to leave the bathroom.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turns towards the source of the voice. His eyes land on Leon exiting one of the stalls.

"Leon," Arthur greets weakly. "How are you?"

"Doing well," Leon responds, crossing to the sinks and washing his hands. "Didn't think I could say the same for you, Morgana tells me you called in sick today."

"Yeah," Arthur stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I did."

"You don't look sick to me, mate," Leon says.

Arthur meets his gaze. "I'm here with Merlin."

Leon laughs. "Playing hookey for a romantic day off, then?"

"Something like that," Arthur says, keeping his voice stoic. Apparently Leon can tell something is off, so he quirks an eyebrow and waits for him to continue. Arthur takes a deep breath and tells him.

"Merlin's numbers are down," He says quietly. "To hours."

Leon's face falls. "Shit," he exhales, "How long?"

"Eight. Maybe seven."

Leon's mouth hangs open and Arthur avoids his gaze. He doesn't want pity or sympathy.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur." Leon's hand comes down to rest on his shoulder. Arthur grimaces. "How's he doing?"

"I haven't told him," Arthur shrugs. "Thought it'd be best that way."

Leon nods, removing his hand. "I'm sorry," He says again. "If you need to talk to someone when it's over, call me, yeah?"

Arthur grimaces at the way Leon says the word "over." Arthur hates that word. He nods anyway.

"Good," Leon says. "I'll let you get back to Merlin, then."

"Yeah. See you."

With one last unsteady nod in Leon's direction, Arthur leaves the bathroom and makes his way back outside.

"I was thinking," Merlin says as Arthur drops into his chair, "We could go get ice cream, stop by Elena's, then go home?"

"So soon?" Arthur replies, and Merlin smirks.

"There are a few things I want to do that we can't exactly do in public."

Arthur laughs. "Home it is, then."

**7**

The smell of dust and paper hits Arthur's nostrils as they enter Elena's Used Books. The bell above them jingles merrily.

"Be with you in a sec!" Calls a voice from within the labyrinth of musty old bookshelves.

"It's us, El!" Merlin replies through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, free hand still in Arthur's.

"Hi boys!" A blond-haired woman emerged from one aisle, arms laden with a pile of battered paperbacks. "Oi! No food in here!"

"It's just ice cream," Merlin teased, licking a stripe up his cone and winking at Arthur. Arthur knocks his shoulder into Merlin's and nods at Elena.

"Gross. Don't do that in my shop."

"Do what?"

"Suggestively licking your ice cream. It's weird."

Merlin rolls his eyes and laughs. Elena wrinkles her nose at him.

"What can I do for you today?" She asks, setting her books down on the counter.

"Just browsing," Merlin says.

"I've got a great batch just in," Elena chirps, "I think you'll like this one, Merlin."

" 'The Great Tree of Avalon,'" Merlin reads aloud, removing his hand from Arthur's to take the book from the top of the pile.

"The main guy's name is Merlin!" Elena says. Merlin rolls his eyes.

"Another magical old wizard?"

"Beasts and magic and fantastical adventures and the like. You'll love it."

Merlin hums as he flips through the pages.

"I need something for the train home," Merlin says, "It's a six hour ride."

Neither Merlin nor Elena notice Arthur's wince. The trip to Ealdor Merlin is talking about is scheduled for two weeks from now. Arthur couldn't figure out how to say no when booking the train tickets, and since then he's been trying to get them exchanged so that Merlin's mother can come here instead.

"Well take a look around and see what you can find," Elena dismisses them with a wave of her hand in the direction of the bookshelves. "And don't you dare get ice cream on anything, or I will come after you. With knives."

Half an hour later they exit Elena's shop, ice cream replaced by a pile of books each, all Merlin's picks.

"It's going to take me weeks to get through all these," Merlin says, shifting so that the books can sit more comfortably in the crook of his arm.

"You'll finish them all by the time your trip rolls around," Arthur says.

Merlin rolls his eyes. "I hope not, then I'll have nothing to read on the train."

"Then maybe you should spend less time reading and more time doing something else."

"Oh?" Merlin lifts an eyebrow in Arthur's direction. "Like what?"

"Why don't I show you when we get home?"

"Deal."

***

Things started to get truly scary a few years down the line.

"Happy new year!" Somebody popped the cork on the champagne as everyone cheered, and Arthur pulled Merlin in for their midnight kiss.

"You taste like wine," Merlin mumbled against Arthur's lips, "Good wine."

"That's you," Arthur pointed out, "I haven't touched the wine this evening."

"Liar."

Arthur laughed and resumed the kiss, until they were broken up by someone else grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"Come on!" Gwen yelled, "Time for New Year's Resolutions!"

Everyone flopped down on the couches, some sitting in laps and others tumbling to the floor, in Gwaine's case.

Arthur traced lazy circles on the back of Merlin's hand as the group went around, everyone pestering everyone else until a resolution had been drawn.

"Merlin, your turn!"

"I am perfect the way I am!" Merlin announced, grinning.

Arthur snorted.

"Shut up," Merlin said. "No really, I haven't really got a resolution. I like the way things are going right now."

"Come on," Gwen whined, "You've got to have something."

"We've all gone," Morgana said, "You have to say something or no more booze for you."

Merlin yelped in outrage.

"A goal you have for the year, then," Gwen prompted. Merlin blushed.

"Well," He said, suddenly shy. His hand wandered to wrap around Arthur's wrist, and suddenly Arthur dreaded what was about to come.

"I've been thinking about...I don't know."

"What?"

"Well...maybe starting a family?" Merlin ended the sentence as a question, ducking his head and sending a shy look to Arthur. Arthur froze.

Everyone in the group cooed.

"Really?" Morgana asked, eyes keen with interest, "I didn't think you were the family type, Arthur."

Arthur shrugged, "Maybe I am."

"I didn't mean this year," Merlin said hastily to Arthur, "I mean, we're still young. I just meant, I'd like to start thinking about it."

"You two would be great parents," Gwen said.

"Really? Arthur?" Morgana said doubtfully, gesturing with her champagne.

"I'd be a great father!" Arthur protested, and Merlin giggled.

"He'd have me there to help him, remember?" Merlin said. "I've always wanted to be a dad."

Arthur thought of the number Three on the back of Merlin's shoulder. "You'd be a great dad," he said softly, nudging Merlin's knee with his own. Merlin's smile was blinding. Arthur suddenly felt sick.

Arthur held Merlin's gaze until Morgana yelled, "Arthur, your turn!"

The party went on until Arthur dragged a drunken Merlin back to their flat.

"Do you really want kids?" Arthur asked lightly as he all but dumped Merlin onto the bed.

"mmmmhm," Merlin mumbled, "Always have. But not for a few years, I'm not ready to share you yet."

Arthur sighed and got under the covers beside Merlin.

"Go to sleep," He whispered into Merlin's neck. Merlin's hand wandered to curl over Arthur's hip and he smiled blearily before his eyes drooped shut.

***

**5**

Arthur collapses on top of Merlin, panting heavily after another round.

"That was great," Merlin says, pressing a breathless kiss to Arthur's temple. "God, I love you."

Arthur moves his lips to Merlin's throat and holds them there, content to taste the fluttering of Merlin's pulse there, proof that he's alive.

"I love you too," He pledges, kissing the words into Merlin's skin, "I will always, always love you."

**4**

"Let's watch Star Wars," Merlin says, sitting naked on the couch wrapped up in the duvet.

"Again?" Arthur says, sliding under the duvet beside Merlin.

"There's no such thing as too much Star Wars," Merlin says seriously.

"Fine," Arthur grumbles, sliding a casual hand along Merlin's back to rest on the Four. "But this means you are going to suck my cock later."

"Prat."

**3**

Of course Merlin would fall asleep during his favorite movie, Arthur thinks, looking down at Merlin slumped against his shoulder. He looks perfect, mouth agape and loose-limbed as he is.

 _Why him?_ Arthur wonders, with such ferocity it's a wonder Merlin doesn't hear it in his sleep. Why should kind, loving, beautiful Merlin have to die instead of someone else? Anyone else?

Arthur lightly rubs the number Three on Merlin's back. It's a shame that Merlin's asleep right now. Arthur should wake him up, make some speech or suck his dick or do _something._

Yet Merlin looks so peaceful as he is, snoring slightly with each breath. So Arthur shifts, careful not to wake him, so that he is lying on his back with Merlin draped on top of him. Arthur switches the TV off and arranges his limbs around Merlin, and holds him.

**2**

Merlin is still sleeping. Arthur starts to talk. He speaks with barely a whisper at first, his lips moving against Merlin's hair. He tells Merlin everything- all about how much he loves him and how cold his life was before they met, and how cold his life will be when Merlin's no longer in it. He talks about how much he would give ten years of his life for just one more year with Merlin.

Soon his voice has risen in volume until he's talking out loud, speech muffled by tears and Merlin's hair. He talks about the little things, every little detail about the last seven years that he's going to miss.

"Like your ears," Arthur says, bringing up a hand to caress their shell, "Your stupidly big ears that make you look like fucking Mickey Mouse. God, I'm going to miss them."

He kisses Merlin's head. "And the way you start singing when you cook, and your fondness for refrigerator magnets, and your weekly Star Wars marathons, and your gross breakfast juice."

Merlin shifts against Arthur's chest, sighs, but doesn't wake.

**1**

Arthur can't take it any more.

"Merlin," he says, "Get up, you lazy sod."

"What?" Merlin blinks up at him. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not too long," Arthur says.

"You turned off Star Wars," Merlin accuses, noticing the quiet television.

Arthur shrugs helplessly.

"Well," Merlin says, kissing Arthur's lips and sitting up, "I'm hungry."

"It's only four-thirty," Arthur points out, but sits up anyway.

"Yes, and we never had lunch so I'm starving. Come on."

Merlin launches himself up from the couch, the duvet slithering down his hips and to the floor. The number One leers at Arthur while Merlin's back is turned.

"Let's get dressed and get a slice of pizza down the road," Merlin says, stretching.

As if in a dream, Arthur stands up and presses a kiss to Merlin's number, careful only to touch the Zero.

"Do you really want to do that?"

Merlin turns around and meets Arthur's gaze. His expression is soft, and for a minute Arthur thinks that maybe Merlin knows.

"I'm starving," Merlin says again. He brings a hand up to cup Arthur's face, his thumb gently working the skin of Arthur's cheekbone.

Arthur exhales. There's no way to hide his trembling, and he's sure he's going to start crying any minute now, but with Merlin looking at him like that he plasters on a weak smile.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Arthur tries, "We could stay in. I could cook dinner."

Merlin laughs. "You? Cook dinner?"

"I could try," Arthur says defensively.

"I don't want to risk you burning down the whole flat."

Merlin kisses him, deep and firm, and they sway locked together like that until Merlin breaks them apart to rest their foreheads together.

"I love you, you know," Merlin whispers, "Don't ever forget that."

Arthur's lips brush Merlin's as he speaks. "I love you too," He promises.

Merlin smiles and backs away. "Now come on, get dressed and let's go."

He turns and heads to the bedroom, Arthur following close behind. The number One stares at him as they go.

**0**

The taxi driver is nearly in tears, shouting apologies from underneath his bushy moustache. Arthur doesn't hear him.

The glass of the broken headlight is scattered across the street, the taxi coming to rest at a pitiful stop in the middle of the road.

"It was my client, he was refusing to pay his fare and he distracted me-"

Arthur shoves the driver away as he falls to the ground, glass cutting through his jeans and digging into his knees.

It's sickening, the way Merlin's head sits all wrong on his shoulders, blood coating almost the entire left side of his face and soaking into his tee shirt.

Arthur reaches out a hand to wipe the blood-soaked fringe out of Merlin's forehead. He leans down and kisses the skin there, lips flooding with the coppery taste.

"I love you," He mouths there.

He stays bent over Merlin's body like that until the scream of the sirens fill his ears, and then there's a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Sir?" Says the paramedic, "Sir, I need you to step away, please."

Arthur straightens up. There's a crowd on either side of him, groups of people standing on the pavement and in the windows of the pizza shop. He doesn't realize he's fully crying until he sees the sympathetic reaction of the people.

With one last brush of his fingers against Merlin's cheek, Arthur allows himself to be lifted up and steered away.

Merlin is lifted onto a gurney and wheeled into the back of a white vehicle. The taxi driver is hysterical, still stammering about his client.

Arthur sits down on the side of the road and shuts his eyes tight. People move around him, but nobody tries to speak to him.

Eventually the taxi driver stops talking and the crowd thins, and Arthur is left alone. The smell of pizza wafts over to him from the open door of the shop and Arthur breathes it in. It reminds him of Merlin.

Finally he picks himself up and wanders in the direction of their flat (not theirs now, his). He takes the stairs one by one, letting his feet guide him with his head ducked down. When he reaches the door he stops in front of it.

The key feels heavy in his pocket. Inside he's going to find a flat full of Merlin, from the discarded duvet on the couch to the Star Wars DVD still in the player.

Instead of facing them, Arthur slides to the floor, resting his back against the door. His head lands on the wood with a thud.

 _Seven years,_ he thinks almost hysterically. He had seven years to prepare himself for this moment, and now that it's here he has no idea what to do.

Time ticks past, and Arthur sits there motionless until mrs. next door walks past, tutting when she has to step around him to reach the stairs.

Idly Arthur brings his hand across his chest to rub at the numbers on his back. The top one is a zero, that much he knows for certain. He wonders what the bottom number says.

Arthur's mobile buzzes with a text, so he removes his hand to fish it out of his pocket.

Seeing it's from Morgana, Arthur opens it.

**Leon told me he saw you earlier. I'm so sorry. Call me. x**

Arthur stares at the message for a few moments, then lets his hand fall to the carpet beside him. Soon everyone will know, and he'll be flooded with unwanted messages of condolences, with no moment to himself to properly mourn.

He rests his head against the hard wood of the door and closes his eyes, letting the tears stream freely down his cheeks. The ache in his chest has expanded until he is engulfed in it, every inch of him hurting down to the tips of his toes.

The world around him stops moving. Again, Arthur brings his hand to the numbers on his back. Again, he wonders what they say.

Fin

__

_Time is too slow for those who wait,_  
 _Too swift for those who fear,_  
 _Too long for those who grieve,_  
 _Too short for those who rejoice,_  
 _But for those who love, time is_  
 _Eternity._  
-Henry Van Dyke


End file.
